Short angsty one-shots
by lillpon
Summary: I have feels, OK? And one way to relieve myself is to write angsty one-shots. Killian Jones-centered mostly, with a dash of Captain Swan. Lotsa angst. Canon-friendly, no spoilers.
1. Author's note

**Author's Note**

Hi there, fellas! So this is mainly a collection of angsty little one-shots that come to me from time to time. Mostly Killian Jones, with a dash of Captain Swan. Mind that there's a reason that Angst is the first category in this collection. I _adore _Angst. There will be a lot, and Romance will come second.

Rated T, just to be sure. Some mild violence might occur, swearing no more than the one shown in the show. _Maybe_ I will throw in some fluff, though I'm not sure. No smut. I think that's all.

I do love some feedback. I'm pretty inexperienced in writing, but I also like sharing my stories.


	2. We start with a little fluff

It'll take him some time to get used to it. Watching her sleep, then slowly waking up, looking at him and smiling. It's a feeling he hadn't felt in literal ages, a feeling he hadn't allowed himself to feel. And now he has to believe that it won't be taken away from him, again.

"Don't say it", she says, still smiling.  
"Say what?", he replies.  
"That I'm beautiful when I sleep".  
"You don't need to be asleep to be beautiful, love. Not that your looks is the thing I treasure most about you", he says while caressing her cheek.

She snickers and leans to his touch, while her left hand slowly descends down his to caress his stump. As if he wasn't torn enough by now.

Unfortunately, for now, Killian Jones is a man who won't share his pain. He'll try to deal with it alone, will not allow it to tear apart anyone but himself. That's why he's letting Emma tell him that she loves him, no matter if every time she says it, memories of the woman who said the same words while dying in his arms come rushing and threaten to bring him to his knees.

He knows that one day, he might tell her. But now she looks so damn happy and he can't bring himself to destroy the happiness it took her so long to find. He'll always care for her, even if it brings him down. If it destroys him. He doesn't care. All he cares for is for her to have her home, her happiness and family, and for him to protect those the way his couldn't be protected.


	3. In the Clock Tower

A layer of magic covered them as they froze in place. As if things couldn't get any worse. Can they even see what's happening? Or will they just unfreeze to find him dead and the Dark One more powerful than ever?

In any case, she'll once more be helpless to help him. Like before, and like he himself had been before.

"Well, maybe not everything went to plan, but this next part, I'm really going to enjoy".

That's it. One last look at his blackened and battered heart, and when the Dark One's fingers start squeezing, above the pain the only thing he can think of is Milah. That's how her last seconds had gone by, excruciating and helpless and vain.

_Kill me like you did Milah._

He's still screaming while his hand is reaching for the aching hollow space at his chest, and it takes him a few seconds to realize that the Dark One has stopped.

"I don't understand. Why can't I-"

"Because I commanded you not to!"

It's Belle.

Belle, of all people, she's there and stopping her husband from murdering him.

"Drop the heart."

Rumpelstiltskin obeys, and the heart slips from his fingers. He reaches for it and struggles to realize what's happened.

He's going to live. The Dark One is under control, his heart is in his own hand.

After all that emotional turmoil, all those torturous days, he can't believe it. He can faintly hear another command by Belle as he brings his dear life close to him.

Emma and her mother are unfrozen, bewilderment covering their faces. The hat shrinks back to box, and the magic lifts from the air.

He manages to stand up. He looks at Emma and smiles. I'm a survivor, love, he thinks while his adrenaline is coming to a halt.

He's going to live.


	4. Heartless

He couldn't help wondering how the hell that thing worked. It was not the first time someone had reached for his heart, and quite literally touched it. But this was the first time someone went as far as _ripping_ it out.

He was walking down the road to Granny's, and tried as he might, he couldn't stop thinking about it. How much it hurt, how much _more_ it hurt every time he thought about it. He was going to die a horrible death and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

It still hurt. Was the Crocodile toying with his heart?

Time passed faster than he thought, and he was already walking through Granny's threshold. It was empty, and he was grateful, and he wasn't. He felt desperate, angry, helpless, and bloody devastated.

He slowly put the key to his door and opened it. What good would it do him, staying in this night? He ought to go outside, make sure that the Snow Queen would not cause any harm to Emma, her family or anyone else.

It's not that it would be better for him to sleep anyway. He should go outside, fight to the death, protect the others, get drunk, run away, attack the Dark One, bloody _do_ something.

But he was exhausted. He hadn't slept the previous night, he wore himself a lot this day, his chest was still aching. He didn't even have the power to undress fully. He got off his jacket and boots, then his vest and brace. Then he sunk to his bed and lied on his back.

He closed his eyes. He drifted off...

It wasn't much later that he woke up trembling. He was still wearing his clothes and his right hand was cradling the place over his heart. Or, better, the place where his heart _should_ have been. He didn't remember the nightmare, only the dread feeling of it.

He's been having bad dreams for centuries now. He'd spent those centuries believing that the completion of his revenge would lead to his death.

Why was it all so hard now? All of a sudden, he couldn't bear a simple nightmare, neither the feeling of his imminent death.

He wanted to scream. But he couldn't. The Dark One's commands were clear: He couldn't tell anyone about his missing heart. He had to behave as normal as to not raise any suspicion.

So he just laid there, too tired to even take off his clothes, his hand on his chest, the pain finally (and mercifully) dulling...

He didn't sleep.


	5. Post-Season 4

Relief.

Emma was there, facing him, smiling at him. And he felt nothing but relief.

Killian ran to her, but she didn't open her arms to him. Her gaze was still loving, but he could swear there was something like pity in them.

So he just stood there in front of her.

"Are you alright?", he asked.

"Yes, Killian, I am."

"We were all so worried-"

"Yes, I know. I was worried about you too."

He looked at her, still seeing the pity in her eyes. As much as he wanted to smile and hold her close to him, he felt like doubting the last words she'd told him.

"What's wrong?"

Her face fell and she lowered her glance, then looked up at him again.

"Killian, you once died for me. Would you do it again?"

Here comes the doubt again. How could she not know it?

"Of course I would, love."

She smiled again, just a little, and it was a smile filled with so many emotions.

"Good", she said.

And she put her hand in his chest, ripping out his heart.

Killian was too shocked to cry out in pain. Heaving, he looked at her, then at his heart, then back at her again.

"Emma..."

"Please, Killian", she begged. "You know how the ritual goes. I need the heart of someone who knew me before I became the Dark One."

Still heaving and speechless, the only thing he could do was stare at her.

"You're not the only one willing to die for me. But I can't cause pain to anyone else."

She placed her free hand on his cheek. His panicked eyes didn't leave hers.

"Because I love you, and I will miss you so much. But luckily..."

She raised the hand holding his heart, ready to start squeezing.

"... no one else will."

He was still looking at her as she started clenching her fist around his heart.

He woke with a start, his hand immediately going for his chest. He breathed hard, and slowly realized he was still in his cabin. His heart still in its place, Emma still gone.

Steading his breath, he punched his fist at the wall right beside him. He took a few moments to sit up on his bed, knowing he wasn't going to sleep again that night. Not that he could sleep most nights.

He rubbed his face with his hand, the dream still vivid in his eyes, ears and everything.

Then his phone rang. He turned at it and looked at the name. _David_. They probably woke up realizing something, or something of all those books they'd read clicked and made sense, and they would need his help. That's the only reason they would ever call him anyway.

_"I will miss you. But luckily, no one else will"_


	6. 2x12 - Slight Canon Divergence

_A/N: I found it a little strange how Hook didn't react weird with all the machinery around him when he woke up in the hospital in "In the Name of the Brother". And I wanted to add my cents on how I think he would react if he had needed a ventilator - especially with his good hand handcuffed. Contains dialogue that is not mine._

_While I was writing this, I almost had Emma call Mary Margaret "mom" but I remembered this is happening in Season 2 and my heart broke a little :(_

_Obviously unbeta-ed. Comments are welcome, as long as they're polite :)_

_P.S. I have only mediocre (at best) medical knowledge._

* * *

Emma walked down the corridor again. She couldn't stop her fingers from drumming on her arms, and was grateful for having caffeine as an excuse. Mary Margaret appeared from the corner, holding yet another cup of coffee for Emma.

"He's still not up yet?", Mary Margaret asked.

"No", she replied and took a sip of her coffee. "Are you sure Gold didn't follow you?"

"Yeah. I saw him going towards Belle's room. Poor girl."

"Yeah. If only that pirate woke up, I would feel less sorry for us as well."

"Are you okay?"

"I've dealt with worse. I'm just thinking how I will make him talk. The nurse told me he's on ventilator."

"Can he breathe with an oxygen mask?"

"They don't know. But I doubt that he'll be cooperative when he-"

Before she managed to finish, she heard a nurse rushing towards his room. She quickly gave her cup to Mary Margaret and ran that way as well. She entered the room to see a helpless small nurse trying to hold Hook down. A strange cough-like moan was escaping his throat, filtered by the tube that ran it down. He was desperately trying to free his cuffed hand, while his stump was struggling to remove the mask holding the tube from his mouth. His eyes were firmly shut and he was already sweating from the effort.

It was horrible to watch, but not unlike anything she had experienced. She calmly moved towards Hook's right side, while the nurse still tried to keep his stump away from the mask and slightly failing. Emma made a mental note to wonder how he could have kept a handless arm as strong and fit as his good one, and grabbed him by the hair with her left hand, her right one stopping his right hand from its struggle to freedom. His wrist had already been chafed from the handcuff.

"Hey!" she shouted at him, but she doubted he heard her. He was pinned down at last, but was still moaning and had his eyes shut. He had experienced enough torture in his long life, but none of the times had he been as helpless as that. Aside from all the restrains, his whole body was hurting. He kept making that cough-like moan even if every time it felt like knives going down his throat to his lungs and sides.

"Hey!" Emma shouted again and rocked his head. "Look at me!"

He finally stopped resisting, only to open his eyes and look around, still coughing. His eyes settled on her and immediately narrowed.

"That thing you feel down your throat, is a breathing tube. It helps you breathe, so stop trying to pry it out."

He coughed again.

"Yes, I know it's bothering you.", she said and tried to hold back a smirk. _You deserve every inch of pain for what you've done_, she thought and kept looking fiercely into his eyes. "But if we remove it you'll die from asphyxiation. Is that what you want?"

_If only you'd heard me a few seconds before that thing hit me_, he thought. So that was the price for his revenge. Tied down in a bed, in a place he had no idea what it was, with a scary thing inside of him that supposedly kept him alive. He would have preferred the Crocodile's fireball there and then and be over it with.

"But because you caused a big amount of problems, I need to ask you some questions. Do you understand?"

And now he had to oblige to her. This outcome couldn't get any better. He didn't respond.

She shook his head slightly and repeated "Do you understand?", raising her eyebrows.

He looked down at his cuffed hand and wondered how much into this she was. She appeared angry, but he couldn't help thinking that she might be enjoying this. Her hand was still pushing his down, not relaxing for a single second.

He looked back at her and saw her determination and sternness in her eyes. She didn't break.

Hell, he _hated_ her. Those last times he made alliances, he never sought to be the powerful party. But right now, he'd hit bottom, and there she was, all powerful, untamed, intact and... magical.

"If you agree, we'll remove the tube for a few moments. Then we can talk."

How convincing. He tried to look down at the mask covering his mouth and wondered how much it would hurt removing the thing... and decided he would rather try it than spending one more second with it.

"Do we have a deal?", she asked.

He looked at her, eyes still narrowed, and nodded.

Emma looked at the nurse, finally let go of him and beckoned her.

"I need the doctor's approval..." she hesitated.

"You'll have it. Right now the Sheriff asks you to remove this tube and give him an oxygen mask."

_An oxy-what?_, he wondered.

The nurse swallowed hard, looked around for a second and finally let go of Hook's other hand and brought an oxygen mask. She looked at Emma again, a bit suspiciously, and Emma nodded back eagerly. Hook looked at the mask and then back at Emma.

"I told you you wouldn't be able to breathe without the tube.", she replied.

"So, while I remove the tube, you might need to cough.", the nurse said. "Don't be afraid if you feel a lot of saliva going down your throat. But you'll immediately feel the need for air, and your lungs will hurt. Then I will put this mask over your mouth, and you'll breathe in the air, like this." And she put the mask over her mouth and demonstrated for him. He kept looking at her but didn't show a single sign of understanding. His bewilderement was palpable.

"Maybe we should wait for the doctor, we have to make sure the patient is-", the nurse started.

"Or maybe we should let a psychopath murderer off her leash in the streets of Storybrooke.", Emma replied sternly. "That man is the only one who could give us enough information about her and if you want to go back home at the end of your shift and sleep peacefully, I suggest you should not wait."

She gave in and started untying the mask on his mouth. "Now, remember, you might need to cough.", she said and started pulling the tube out.

Hell, he needed to cough. Emma had experienced such a procedure before, but probably the pirate's lack of knowledge of this world didn't help. While he was coughing violently, the nurse put the oxygen mask on his mouth and kept it still until his breaths were a little more than coughs. He was still struggling and _Gods_, how long would he have to endure this?

In his frustration over the new method of breathing, he didn't realize that now Emma was holding the mask and that the nurse was gone. He opened his eyes again, feeling more tired than before, if that was even possible, and looked at her mockingly.

"Now," he finally said and was himself surprised by the harshness of his voice. Whatever gas was going down his throat, if he judged by its awful taste, did nothing to sooth him. "how may I... serve you... your Majesty?", he said with short breaths, every single word hurting his already sore as hell throat.

"Where is Cora?"

"Am I right in... assuming you're... enjoying this... Swan?"

"No, but you would be right to assume I won't hesitate to make you more hurt. Where is Cora?"

And then the bastard dared to give her a smirk. He didn't answer. Emma coolly removed the mask from his mouth and let him struggle to breathe for a few seconds before placing it back and letting him breathe normally again. She looked at him sternly. When he barely managed to find his breath back, he replied.

"I've no... idea... where she is. She has her own... agenda. Now let's talk about something... I'm more interested in. How long... do I have to stay like this?"

"For as long as you need to heal. It was a pretty big damage over there."

"Aye, it was. But that doesn't seem... to make you less... prone to my... physique."

She looked at him, masking her embarrassment and confusion. "You're awfully chipper for a guy who just failed to kill his enemy, then got hit by a car.". She wondered how much there had been in him. He didn't even seem to mind that he would have to stay bedridden.

"Well, it looks that... I'm still in one piece, which is more than... can be said for other bad days I've had." Certainly, his days where his whole body was feeling sore and still he was confined were rare, but not his worst. "Plus, I did some... quality damage... to my foe."

"You hurt _Belle_", Emma replied, wondering.

"I hurt his heart. Belle's just where... he keeps it. He killed my love. I know the f... feeling.". Every inch of his face looked worn out now, quite possibly not just from physical pain.

_I bet you do_, Emma thought and bent more over him. She looked right in his eyes, that were still trying hard to show strength despite his obvious weariness, and she smiled. "Keep smiling, buddy.", she said. "You're chained down and injured. He's on his feet, immortal, has magic, and you hurt his girl. If I were to pick Dead Guy of the Year, I'd pick you."

He knew she was right. Deep down, he knew that the Crocodile would stop at nothing now to make him suffer for it. Nevertheless, all he could do was throw a last smile at her before she straightened up and called the nurse.

When the nurse came in and took hold of the mask over his mouth, she left immediately and didn't look back.


	7. Come back

He had come close to death so many times, one would have expected him to not succumb so easily to its luring relief. He'd spent an eternity thinking, knowing, that if he died, nobody would try to bring him back. This time was different from many more aspects.

Because this time he _saw_. The place he found himself at was vague, but for one thing, he felt he could see clearer as ever. Most importantly, he saw _them_. His brother, full in his Navy costume, just the way he was when the Dreamshade finally claimed his life, and Milah, in the colourful clothes she wore when her heart was lost.

They had their backs at him, and were standing still. He felt himself reaching towards them, though he wasn't walking, nor flying. It was a sensation he hadn't felt before. Almost nothing in this state felt familiar. But he was glad. Even though he still felt the water weighing his lungs and his wet hair dripping water on his face, he was finally starting to feel solace.

Suddenly they turned. Had he still been able to feel anything than relief, he would've felt discomfort, at best, by the look of them. Milah's chest, right above the place where her heart was, was stained with blood. Liam's face was not in better shape. His veins were blackened, token of that dreadful poison. They were both smiling, and as Killian grew even closer to them, they offered their hands for him to go to them. Of course, the veins on Liam's hand were black as well. But Killian didn't care. He continued reaching for them, and finally raised his own only hand towards their way. Again, he was not surprised to see that it was soaking wet, as was his upper body. He was getting closer to them when he heard a voice so distant he barely registered the words.

_Wake up, Killian!_

And with this voice, the first negative emotion kicked in; regret. He recognized the voice, and didn't want to leave its owner behind, but, he thought, maybe it won't hurt her so much, if for one last time, he chooses the selfish way.

He went on reaching for his deceased loved ones.

_Killian, come back to me_.

And it was with this plea that he felt a hand grabbing his left elbow. The hand was cold, or at least colder than the place he was now, but its grip was firm. And it pulled him away, towards the living, where he would no longer see clear, no longer see them.

His hand was still extended, reaching for Liam and Milah. They didn't move, they just stood there, smiling lovingly, with their hands extended towards him in return.

The pull grew stronger, and he felt a gush of air attacking his lungs, pushing the water out. He couldn't see them clear anymore, as he was steadily drawn away from them.

_Come back to me_.

This time he heard the plea clear as ever; asking, needing, despairing.

His lungs demanded to release the water, and once again his world went black, until he felt the hard ground underneath him, the winter air freezing his wet body, a pair of hands resting on his chest. He lunged forward, as much as his lack of strength allowed him, and spat out the water. He lied down again and breathed in air with his eyes closed, feeling a gloved hand caressing his cheek. Wearily, he opened his eyes to face his Savior, panic covering her whole face. He never thought he'd consider that this world looks dull.

"Swan", he muttered breathlessly.


	8. Take

He'd only known how to take. After years of having everything taken from him, all that was left was this gaping hole that asked to take, take, take. Take the kingdom for taking his brother. Take his father's life for taking his freedom. Take the life of the Crocodile and everyone who loved him.

_Take, take, take._

But it never mattered to him, only seemed to soothe the ever-growing pain. Pain that reached down to his very being, always asking for more. Until one day he'd taken too much, and that canker in his soul asked to give instead. Give his services. Give his ship. Give his life. And he would gladly give all that.

_Give, give, give_.

Until his life wasn't enough. He had to give his very soul in the name of love, twisted by past pain, fear, and darkness. Nothing he took or gave was ever enough, enough to heal him, enough to make _him_ enough.

Give or take.

_It just never mattered._


	9. The Dark One is summoned

**Author's Note: This ficlet takes place during the Camelot flashbacks from "Broken Heart", right before Emma summons Killian with the sword. I wrote it shortly after watching the episode and posted it on Tumblr, but it still makes me shiver with angst and pain. I edited it slightly and decided to upload it here too. I hope you like it, and sorry for the angst.**

**Also, all the love to _andria_ for her lovely reviews :) They make my day!**

* * *

Camelot had no sea anywhere close.

The ripples on the lake's surface were nothing to the beauty of wild waves on the open sea, but for now those would have to do.

_Killian._

He'd lost count of how many times she'd called him by now. Every time he heard her voice calling him out, he felt his anger resolve into resignation. He knew she'd never stop looking for him, and he didn't know how much longer he could keep himself away from her. He hated to recognize how right that demon was.

_Killian._

He could hear the despair in her voice, matching his despair and only.

He kept looking at the lake, watching as some unsuspected fisherman sailed on his little boat. The moon would be full in a few days, it would fill the whole forest with light, mirroring itself perfectly on the lake. Only it wouldn't shower him with light, nothing ever would. Killian closed his eyes as a slight breeze caressed his face. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea, after all. He opened his eyes again.

_Killian._

Maybe she just wanted to talk. Besides, she was just calling to him. She hadn't yet used the sword to summon him.

"It's just a matter of time before she does that too", the demon said, giggling. Killian clenched his hand into a fist, not wanting to believe that. He took a deep breath and tried to imagine the wind whistling through the trees was the same wind that used to bring the Jolly Roger's sails to life.

_Killian._

He had to admit that even though she'd lied to him, she would help him push that demon away. It would take a lot of work, but they could maybe try and trust each other again…

_Dark One, I summon thee._

His blood froze as his magic surrounded him out of his control and made him appear in front of her, Excalibur in her outstretched hand, standing in that accursed Middlemist field.

So much for mutual trust.


End file.
